


Foreign and Intimate

by sugasneckpillow



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Language Barrier, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Political Marriage, Prince! Guanlin, a little bit of drama and angst maybe, i think, kinda Historical AU, love after marriage, prince! jihoon, probs going to be a shorter fic, still fluffy af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 06:51:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14159181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugasneckpillow/pseuds/sugasneckpillow
Summary: Who says love cannot blossom in a political marriage between two princes?





	Foreign and Intimate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coinseller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coinseller/gifts).



> This idea is inspired by Unda's Fluency, even though the plot will be extremely different. Go check it out if you're a One Piece fan, it's the fluffiest fic idea I've ever come across!!! And it's so well written!
> 
> I want to thank coinseller for inspiring and encouraging me to write this fic. She even beta read this crap load of words for me!!!! Do you even understand how amazing she is? If you don't check out her works (200% quality guaranteed) I'll probably murder you in your sleep LMAO.
> 
> To clarify:  
> Jihoon's kingdom = Maroo, located in the East (Asia)  
> Guanlin's kingdom = Cube Islands, located in the West (Europe)

Jihoon chews on his lower lip nervously.

It’s been two days since he’s arrived at the Cube Islands, but he still hasn’t adjusted to the environment. The weather, for one, is on the cold side compared to that of his homeland, the kingdom of Maroo. The lives of Cubeans and Maroons are so drastically different in many aspects, which is exactly why Jihoon can’t seem to decide on a suitable outfit for the upcoming banquet, where he will supposedly meet his husband-to-be— Prince Guanlin.

“Please, my dear Prince, do explain to me why you’re still in your underwear when the banquet’s supposed to start in around half an hour?” Woojin grunts as he crosses his arms in annoyance.

“Woojin, I don’t know what to wear!” Jihoon whines, looking at the wardrobe exasperatedly. “Have you seen these people? We have such different styles of dressing-”

“So? You’re not supposed to blend in. You’re supposed to stand out.” Woojin raises a brow and leans against the door frame with a yawn. “The Emperor and the Empress said that you’re supposed to fully represent our kingdom. That doesn’t exclude the accoutrements.”

Jihoon purses his lips. His personal attendant had a point. If he was going to go to the banquet in the name of Prince Jihoon of Maroo, then he should dress like it. He peers into the walk-in closet with a look of curiosity, then pulls out a light blue robe.

“How’s this?” He questions his attendant when he holds the robe up to himself, previewing how it’d look on him.

Woojin frowns. “Don’t you want to wear something grander for this occasion? You’re meeting your fiance after all.”

Jihoon tenses up at the mention of the actual purpose of the banquet.

“No,” he says rebelliously, turning on his heels and fumbling for a matching pair of shoes. “I’ll do as I wish. Why would I need to dress up for him?”

“Okay, suit yourself,” Woojin mutters as he rolls his eyes. “I’ll call in the maids to help you with your robe.”

Not long afterwards, Jihoon steps out into the light. He stands in front of the mirror and glances himself over in satisfaction, his fingers softly tracing over the ornaments in his hair. It’s been awhile since he’s dressed this elegantly. The last time he had the obligation to wear such beautiful clothing was during his seventeenth birthday. It’s been nearly a year since then, and Jihoon can’t help but feel a little down because he’s slowly approaching adulthood. After all, a marriage arranged solely by your parents isn’t exactly a desired birthday present to celebrate one’s coming of age.

“Stop admiring yourself,” comes an irritated grunt from the door. “Let’s go, there’s no time to waste.”

Jihoon resists a groan before carefully fixing his long hair and letting it drape along his shoulders. He tightens the creamy white waistband around his robe, exhales slowly, then follows after his attendant.

It’s a wonder how the people of the West could construct such splendid interior designs and complex structures. Woojin had explained that this structure was called a castle. Maroon palaces were often small and short, and the members of the royal family would live in separate, individual palaces. In here, however, the royal family lived in the same ‘castle’, and would oftentimes enjoy their meals together. Everything around them sparkles with gold and silver instead of the usual dullish brick red that he’s used to— the hallways, the decorations, the framed pictures and paintings on the walls… they are all so different to him.

Jihoon took art and calligraphy classes back at home, and he knew the most common art form was the art of brushes. In comparison to the light, watery colors that’s custom to his culture, the Cubean’s calligraphy and art are depicted with more solid, precise strokes. The colors are dark and the shapes are solid and well defined.

“How long are you going to stand there, my Prince? The banquet’s going to start.” Woojin sighs and shakes his head when he catches the young prince looking around excitedly at the paintings on the walls. “Please don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

“Sorry, but that’s exactly my intent, Woojin dear.” Jihoon cheerfully skips along the hallway. The tightness of his robe restrains his movements a bit, but there’s hardly anything that can stop the young prince once he is fully charged with the energy of an adventurous spirit.

Woojin glances at the blissful expression on the prince’s face and puts a hand on his forehead, a look of distaste clouding his features. “You know what? Fine. Do what you want. But if you’re late and you leave a bad impression on your fiance’s family, don’t blame me.”

Jihoon immediately faces front and shuts his mouth, quickly following Woojin after the threat. He might seem like a coward for obliging so quickly, but he blames Woojin for knowing exactly which buttons to press when he urgently needs Jihoon to stick to his duties.

Jihoon certainly has his reasons for not wanting to offend the Cubean royal family.

Firstly, he’ll be staying for three months on the Cube Islands before he and his fiance are to leave to Maroo for their wedding. _Three! Whole! Months!_ He had to make sure that he was leaving a good impression as a guest if he wanted marvellous treatment instead of blatant discrimination.

Secondly, if he somehow displeases the Cubean royal family to the extent that their political marriage gets called off, it would mean war. The situation between kingdoms was tense, and the political marriage he’d been forced into was a desperate call for peace between the East and the West. It was a convenient agreement and a bloody good attempt, since the Cube Islands were basically the strongest political union in the West while Maroo was the largest kingdom in the East. If a good relationship between the two superpowers wasn’t established by the end of this marriage, then there’d be no hope for the two halves of the globe to successfully find peace.

In short, if he wrecks this marriage, the _world_ is doomed.

The pressure from that alone is enough to make Jihoon feel suffocated in the midst of something that should guarantee eternal happiness.

He can’t call himself a hopeless romantic. He isn’t one. But Jihoon loves freedom, and he loves everything associated with freedom. And a political marriage is _everything_ but freedom.

So the two words leave a bad taste in his mouth.

“Wait here,” Woojin whispers when they arrive in front of two huge doors. He sees Woojin go up to the soldiers guarding them and watches as he talks to them in a different language, which he recognizes as fluent Cubean. 

In his free time, Jihoon glances at the few people that are present. Most of them are soldiers, dressed in different uniform (to show their rankings, Woojin had once told him). Jihoon scans over their dark pants and buttoned up shirts, and notes their neatly cut hair hidden beneath plain, black hats. He flicks his eyes over to gaze at the long, metal weapons—rifles, as they called them—attached to every soldier’s hip. Next to them, Jihoon feels inferior somehow, and even though each soldier shared a matching, dull expression, he couldn’t help but to sense he was being scrutinized.

“We can go in now,” Woojin says as he returns to Jihoon’s side. “I’ll be following closely behind you, so don’t you worry. They’ll call out your name, and you’ll descend down the stairs with your chin up high, you hear me?"

Jihoon nods and breathes in again to calm his stuttering heartbeat. It’s times like these when Jihoon is thankful for his personal attendant and his reliability—and this time is no different. He can’t help but to feel reassured with Woojin by his side now that he is in unfamiliar territory.

“After you, Prince Jihoon.” Woojin dips his head respectfully and extends a hand when the doors slowly creak open. Jihoon’s heart thuds against his chest as he waits to see a new world unfold in front of him.

“Prince Jihoon,” the voice of the guard at the door booms across the hall as he holds up a scroll to read out loud, “Prince of the Maroo Kingdom in the East—”

Jihoon blinks at the blinding sight before him, taking in the grandeur of golden lights and hanging crystals and people dressed in what Woojin had called ball gowns or suits.

“—has arrived!”

More than a hundred pairs of eyes stare up at him at the mention of his identity, and Jihoon feels his breath catch in his throat.

“Go ahead, your Highness,” Woojin encourages. “I’ll be right behind you if anything happens, I promise.”

Hearing that, Jihoon finally musters up the courage to take a step forward. He keeps his breathing steady, his eyes focused, and his lips stretched into a well rehearsed smile. He ignores the way the people gape at him, either strangely eyeing his unfamiliar get-up or scrutinizing him because of his ethnic background of the East. He also tries to ignore the way a particular pair of eyes seem to burn right through him, lighting up his soul like an undying hellfire. Though, it’s strange because he cannot seem to identify where this intense gaze is coming from, and he feels his shoulders tense in unease. Hopefully he doesn’t show any of his discomfort when he makes his way down the staircase.

When he finally reaches the bottom, he tries to resist breathing a sigh of relief. He’s been worrying over the smallest of things, like tripping over his feet, suffocating himself, hyperventilating… basically making a fool of himself when all the attention is on him.

But nothing bad has happened, and it’s all that matters. Jihoon lets a genuine smile settle on his lips when Woojin reaches his side and gives him a rare snaggletooth grin for making it all the way here.

He is a little bit too occupied with his feet to notice that a tall, young man had made his way through the crowd and stopped right in front of him. It is Woojin who realizes this first, throwing him shocked glances and trying to direct his focus to the front.

Jihoon catches the message after a while, and turns his head slowly.

The person in front of him is wearing garb similar to what the soldiers are wearing too, the only difference is that his overall attire is a beautiful shade of dark, royal blue, and his shoulder pads a shimmering gold. Jihoon can’t help but notice the other’s incredible proportions as well, the dark pants hugging his slender, long legs and the tight uniform showing the line of his waist and broad shoulders of his torso.

The man doesn’t wear any hat, and Jihoon can see the short, dark brown hair that is styled to perfection. It carries a bit of volume and is neatly kept from shielding his forehead or his eyes. His angled brows are neatly trimmed and frames his face as nicely as his jawline does. Jihoon catches sight of a pretty little dimple on the side of the man’s cheek when he smiles, and although the other comes off as mature and sophisticated, Jihoon doesn’t miss the air of childish arrogance the other permeates.

The man says something that he doesn’t understand and extends a hand towards him, which has Jihoon turning to Woojin in mild confusion. Woojin opens his mouth in shock and murmurs some words in Cubean back to the man before bowing deeply. Then he rises and dips his head towards Jihoon again.

“This is Prince Lai Guanlin, your fiance,” Woojin introduces them in the politest manner Jihoon has ever had the honour of witnessing. “He wants to invite you for a dance.”

“The Prince?” Jihoon freezes in place before turning back to the man in front of him. Is this the fiance he had feared for so long? “He wants to dance? With me?”

Without waiting for Woojin to respond, the prince nods, and Jihoon’s shoulders relax. Jihoon places a hand in the prince’s and lets out a little gasp of surprise when the other pulls him into the dance floor, swift as a breeze. When Jihoon looks helplessly back at Woojin, he sees his attendant shake his head and smile, encouraging him to enjoy his time with his fiance.

Jihoon didn’t realize that the music had stopped until it started playing again. Western music is wonderful, he thinks. It’s soft to the ears, and has loads of variations, making it interesting and fresh to listen to. It’s nothing like the sharp, punctuated sounds that the Eastern instruments make, and sometimes, Jihoon thinks that such calmness is a good break from the East’s explosive vigour.

The prince says something again, and Jihoon takes his time to look at his mouth and try to figure out what he’s saying. Sadly, he fails, and he only shakes his head in response. The prince looks a little troubled, but the expression doesn’t last long when a look of excitement graces his handsome features as he suddenly pulls Jihoon into his embrace, drawing out a small noise of surprise from him.

When Jihoon looks up at the Cubean prince quizzically, he only smiles down at him and places Jihoon’s hand on his shoulder. The prince then takes his other hand and grasps onto it tightly before placing his own on Jihoon’s waist.

The intimacy and the faint touches make Jihoon’s face redden in embarrassment, but he reminds himself that this is the Cube Islands and not Maroo, and that he should start embracing this foreign culture if he was going to have to stay here for the next three months of his life.

The Cubean prince chants a little triplet as he guides Jihoon’s footing to the steps of Western dancing. Jihoon, being a passionate dancer in Maroo Kingdom, finds it easy to follow the rhythm and move according to the triplets.

“One, two, three,” Jihoon says, his voice overlapping the other prince’s as he starts to catch up with the other couples dancing alongside them. The Cubean prince looks at him in surprise.

“One, two, three?” The other tries, speaking in the Maroon language. His accent is heavy, but the pronunciations are more or less correct.

Jihoon feels himself grin as he nods in approval.

After receiving such encouragement, the young Prince starts saying ‘one, two, three’ in Jihoon’s language, both of them swaying gently under the beautiful sounds of the quartet’s music. Jihoon has already become accustomed to the style of dancing, but he hasn’t the heart to stop the other Prince’s little chants. After all, the man’s accent seems to improve every time he repeats the numbers, and Jihoon takes this as a chance to let the other indulge himself in part of Jihoon’s culture as well. 

When Jihoon is about to sink deep into the Cubean Prince’s voice, the music suddenly changes into something of a slower pace. He sees the people around him switch partners, and he feels instantly alarmed when the other prince starts to let go.

“No!” he exclaims, grabbing onto the other prince’s hand before he realizes what he’s doing.

When the Cubean prince looks back at him curiously, Jihoon feels himself shying away from the gaze. He didn’t want to be left alone on the dance floor and didn’t want to face the awkwardness of changing dancing partners in the midst of a crowd of strangers. Weirdly enough, he seems to have built a connection with the man before him already, and he doesn’t mind staying with him only.

The prince seems to acknowledge his wishes and slowly smiles. He ducks his head so he can look at Jihoon face to face at the same level, and Jihoon heats up a little as he stares back.

The prince says something. Something that sounds really nice to his ears, something that Jihoon desperately wants to understand but doesn’t have the ability to. 

When the prince sees Jihoon’s face change from confusion to mild disappointment, he purses his lips and takes a step back. This startles Jihoon, and he is about to tell the prince not to leave him again, when he sees him waving somebody over instead.

Jihoon turns and finds a man around their age approaching them. He is a tall, slender, and quite handsome as well. His face is smaller than the prince’s, and slightly lankier in stature.

“You’re Prince Jihoon? It’s very nice to meet you,” the man says, giving him a wide smile. Jihoon has to blink a few times before he realizes that the man is speaking in his language. “I’m Ong Seongwoo, Prince Guanlin’s translator.”

“Oh. Oh! Hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Jihoon responds, mentally slapping himself when he nearly stumbles on his words.

The Cubean prince lowers his head and whispers into the translator’s ears, Jihoon can see the prince’s ears redden a little when he speaks, and a smirk spreads on the translator’s face. The translator puts a hand over his mouth and whispers back in a low voice, and Jihoon can only hear muffled sounds from the exchange.

Jihoon frowns, but waits patiently.

After a short while, the man called Ong Seongwoo dismisses himself, and the Cubean prince is left standing with him again. The man ducks his head again to face Jihoon, but this time, it’s his neck that is red, not Jihoon’s.

“You… beautiful…”

Jihoon catches the words despite the strong accent and the wrong grammar. The moment he digests them, he finds himself heating up a few degrees. The other prince seems to look a little uncomfortable after delivering the sudden compliment and dismisses himself so quickly that he gives Jihoon no time to protest.

Jihoon stands in the centre of the ballroom, dazed, until Woojin comes to nudge him in the arm.

“What’s with you?” Woojin asks with a raised brow. “Got dumped?”

“No…” Jihoon murmurs, feeling his heartbeat picking up when he replays the words the Cubean prince had spoken to him over and over again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Can I say no?”

Jihoon ignores his attendant’s attempt at irking him.

“How do you say ‘You are very handsome’ in Cubean?”

**Author's Note:**

> This all can be very confusing I know!!! That's why please drop questions in the comments below as you please!


End file.
